


Could we stay right here (till the end of time)?

by SarmaArmour



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, But there will be smiles too, Canonical Character Death (mentioned), Drama, End of the World, F/M, Possible Domestic Abuse Triggers, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 03, Unplanned Pregnancy, Unwanted Pregnancy (mentioned), doom and gloom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:31:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7766932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarmaArmour/pseuds/SarmaArmour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the apocalypse part two threatens the remains of the human race, Bellamy tries to convince his sister to join him and the rest of the Skaikru in the safe haven they are constructing to shield them against the radiation. Octavia is in a dark place and she still hasn't forgiven her brother. She refuses again and again to accept his offer. </p><p>Bellamy is broken, but he keeps on fighting for her.</p><p>Then Clarke discovers something startling, that she believes will bring the Blake's back together.</p><p>Will she be able to help the man she loves rekindle the most important relationship in his life, or will the revelation drive an even bigger wedge between the siblings?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for a while now and I think I need to get it out there. Otherwise I'm going to keep editing it to death. Non beta'd. I don't own anything. 
> 
> Title from Gorecki by Lamb.

After their Plan A failed, Bellamy asked Octavia to come back with them, but she slayed him with her steely refrain.

“I won’t be confined again,” she stated, cold and plain.

“But you’ll die out here,” Bellamy replied, his eyes indomitable.

“I’m not afraid.”

Even though he knew it wasn’t true - that the words where just a way to hold it all at bay, he didn’t call her out - he didn’t push.

“Give her time,” Clarke had said.

Well… time was not their friend.

But he kept trying.

He kept letting her know that he needed her to live.

Whenever she wasn’t away on one of her coalition missions, and he happened to see her, he asked again.

And again and again, she defied him.

 

*

 

According to Raven’s calculations, the rain was to be upon them in weeks.

They all stood in the hall and took in the report. Mingling afterwards, to try and boost morale.

Clarke stood silently beside Kane and Luna as they discussed the lineage of a particular word in Trigedasleng. Normally she would have participated politely, but her attention was drawn toward a corner of the room where Indra approached her mother with intense purpose.

It was not unusual for Indra to act with deliberation, but as Clarke watched, she spoke discreetly in Abby’s ear, her shoulders and head hunched - guarded.

Something was wrong.

Upon hearing Indra’s words, Abby’s eyes enlarged and shot across the room. Clarke followed her mother’s line of sight and inhaled sharply.

She was staring at Bellamy.

Thankfully, he was too busy swapping retorts with Raven and Roan to notice.

When Clarke looked back at her mother, their eyes locked briefly before Abby broke the connection by turning to Indra and giving her an almost invisible nod. They separated and Indra departed.

Clarke excused herself from the company she was keeping and casually strode over to stop her mother from leaving, seconds later.

She didn’t waste time. Time was too precious.

“What’s going on?” she quizzed Abby quietly.

“Nothing serious,” Abby admitted almost too easily, knowing it was futile to deny the interaction Clarke had clearly seen. “You’re welcome to join me if you like, but I thought you’d rather run the reactor diagnostics with Raven.”

Clarke could tell from her cold, straight face that Abby wasn’t telling her the whole truth. 

She decided _not_ to call her bluff.

Not _yet_ anyway.

“Well, if you can handle it,” she shrugged. “Just keep me posted.”

“Of course,” Abby smiled.

Once her mother was out in the corridor and around the corner, Clarke walked as calmly and inconspicuously as she could to where Bellamy stood, now crowded by the addition of Monty, Harper and Jasper to the fray.

Subtly, she curled her fingers around the inside of his wrist as Raven rambled on about reverse engineering.

Bellamy’s eyes darted down to where Clarke’s hand touched his skin and then tracked steadily up her arm to search her features.

“Follow me,” she mouthed before releasing her grip and walking away from the group.

Behind her, Clarke heard Bellamy clear his throat and his footsteps fall in.

Their friends continued, but not without Roan throwing a smirk in their direction and Raven rolling her eyes.

Out in the hall, away from inquisition, Bellamy took a few quick strides to catch up to Clarke, clutching her elbow gently and pulling her aside.

“Hey,” his eyes implored her as they huddled against the wall, “what’s the rush?”

 “We have to catch up to my Mum,” she replied, eager for him to understand, despite not really knowing what was going on herself.

“Okay,” he swallowed, and they snuck off.

 

*

 

Peering through the thick foliage that separated them from the makeshift coalition camp where Indra had brought Abby, Clarke became acutely aware of the proximity of Bellamy’s warm body beside her. She could feel the heat emanating from his freckled cheeks as he squinted through the scope of his gun.

“Why’d you bring me here Clarke?” he asked, not taking his eyes away from the two women walking towards one of the tents.

Honestly, she’d queried herself on that same question the whole way there.

She’d had an inkling her mother’s exchange with Indra was about Octavia, and in her immediate wisdom, decided that Bellamy deserved to know. However, she’d started to think that maybe she should have come alone first, found out what it was all about, and then reported back to him. Tensions between the siblings were tight and it wasn’t that Clarke wanted to hide anything from Bellamy, not when they had just rebuilt their trust in each other, but she didn’t want him getting hurt either.

Lately, whenever Octavia was involved, Bellamy always ended up worse off.

As she started to explain herself, Clarke felt Bellamy’s body stiffen beside her. She looked back to the camp to find her suspicions somewhat confirmed.

Octavia and Nyko were heading for the same tent that Abby and Indra had just entered.

Clarke was too far away to tell for sure, but Octavia looked unsteady, shaken. She stumbled and Nyko supported her, before she shoved him off and tried to straighten up.

Bellamy hissed and dropped the gun from its perch on his shoulder as they disappeared into the tent, his eyes staring at the spot where his sister had last stood.

“Octavia’s sick,” he stated slowly, scrunching his brows as if to figure out how, even though they both knew. It was all around them now. “I have to see her,” he slung the gun onto its strap and stood up, starting to push through the leaves of the trees.

“Wait!” Clarke cried, jagging his jacket in her grip. “Are you sure you want to do this to yourself?”

The last time Bellamy had seen his sister, some three weeks ago, he’d spent the next two days in a haze of self-hatred. It was selfish of her she knew, but Clarke couldn’t bear to see him broken again. Besides, they needed him to be on his A-game. Time was running away.

As quickly as she questioned in her own head whether Octavia was worth it, Clarke knew what his response would be. Wasn’t that why she’d brought him here after all? Apocalypse or not, Bellamy believed Octavia was his number one priority.

“She’s my sister, Clarke,” he croaked. “She might not need me… but… I need her,” he looked away. “I need her to live.”

Clarke knew what he meant, but she didn’t know if she liked it.

She didn’t like the fact that Bellamy thought all he was worth was his sister’s life. She didn’t like the fact that he tied his entire existence to Octavia, even at his own expense.

It was debilitating.

But every time Clarke opened her mouth to tell him how she felt - to tell him that he was so much more than his sister’s keeper - she pictured him as a seven year old boy, swaying baby Octavia to sleep.

The image made her weep.

She wept for a boy who never had a choice - a boy who had turned his less than favourable plight, into something pure and true.

It would be easy to say she didn’t like his dangerously devoted selflessness, but it would be a lie.

For it was one of the many things she loved about him.

 

*

 

“What the _hell_ are _they_ doing here?” Octavia grimaced with as much ferocity as she could muster, glaring at Bellamy and Clarke as they emerged through the flap in the tent. “I _told_ you we couldn’t trust her,” she narrowed her glassy gaze at Abby.

“She didn’t know. We followed them,” Clarke said quickly, trying to keep her cool. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Bellamy by losing it at his sister, especially when she was sick.

“Well, you need to _leave_ ,” Octavia tried to sit up from the bed Abby had led her to, but the movement made her worse and she suddenly lurched to her side and threw up.

Instinctively, Bellamy lunged for his sister, but Abby got there first, placing one hand on the small of Octavia’s back, and using the other to hold her hair away from her face.  

“Don’t… _touch_ … me…” Octavia groaned but she did little to fend Abby off.

“Octavia, _please_ ,” Bellamy pleaded. “You need help.”

“You have _no idea_ what I need,” Octavia’s voice was weak but her words never wavered.

“Come on O, you’re sick. Let us take you back with us.”

As Bellamy and Octavia argued, Clarke felt her mother’s glare and looked up to find her face, trying to make sense of the signals she was sending.

Abby was shaking her head and looking from her to Bellamy and back again.

She wanted Clarke to shut him up.

“ _Bellamy_ …” she tried to interrupt, more uncertain than ever of this entire situation.

But there was no stopping Bellamy once he’d started one of his persuasive speeches.

“Tell her Clarke! There’s nothing they can do for her here. At least at Arkadia we have medicine, they can make her comfortable until…”

“I’m _not_ coming _back_ with you!” Octavia snapped, sitting herself up with Abby’s support.

“The radiation will only get worse O...” Bellamy’s voice trailed away and the tent went silent.

“It’s not _radiation_ ,” Octavia swore through her clenched her jaw.

“I think we should give them a minute,” Abby answered, shuffling everybody but the two siblings out.

 

*

 

When they were a safe distance away from the tent, Abby explained without Clarke having to ask.

“Octavia has severe morning sickness,” she said, with a duck of her head.

Clarke gaped and glanced back at the tent in disbelief.

“Why didn’t you say something?” she rasped, dropping down beside her mother who sat on a stump by the fire.

Her mind struggled to sift the new information.

“I _just_ found out,” Abby huffed indignantly. “And besides,” she sighed - resigned. “It wasn’t for me to say.”

Clarke closed her eyes in consideration.

Her mother was right.

“How far along is she?”

“Between four and five months, I think.” Abby answered.

They looked at each other then, and wave after wave of thoughts and emotions flooded through Clarke’s head.

Octavia was having a _baby_?

She couldn’t comprehend.

There was nothing like the promise of new life to incite hope… _righ_ t?

Then why did she feel like something had broken inside?

Clarke wanted to be happy for Octavia, she did.

But if the domes didn’t work, _none_ of them might come out of this alive, let alone an unborn child.

An onslaught of images from the deaths in Mt Weather overwhelmed her, and Clarke couldn’t stop herself.

“What if I can’t save them?” She cried, silent tears streaming from her eyes.

It was moments like these she felt the world on her shoulders and she was ever so grateful for her mother by her side.

“ _We_ will, _all_ of us, _together_.”

As Abby wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her tight while she sobbed into the night, it dawned on Clarke that _Octavia’s_ mother was dead.

All she had left was her brother.

A brother whose love she had abused - a brother whom she had continually refused, every time he’d begged her to come back with them.

Clarke wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

Even if they never got to see its face, feel its velvety-soft skin or hear its heart-felt cry - even if they _were_ all to die, she had to believe in this baby.

If nothing else, she had to believe it would bring Bellamy and Octavia together again.

 

*

 

Once Abby had finished examining Octavia as best she could and arranged a non-negotiable appointment at Arkadia in two days’ time, the three of them headed back to camp.

Bellamy hadn’t spoken since he exited the tent and stormed off into the bracken, waiting there for them to find him.

It wasn’t until they stopped for a brief break before crossing a creek that he finally broke his silence.

“Thank-you,” he said under his breath to Abby, passing her a flask of water.

She nodded her acknowledgement.

“We’ll make sure to secure her a spot when we start the census,” Abby stated steadfastly, trying to assure him.

“Technically, we need to save her _two_ spots,” Clarke said, flashing him something of a smile. 

He didn’t return the sentiment.

He wasn’t even sure what a smile was anymore.

 “Don’t bother,” Bellamy looked down to the ground, restlessly kicking the dirt, before shoving off again, on their return. “She’s not coming,” he muttered over his shoulder.

“What?” Clarke caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm, gently squeezing his bicep as she searched his eyes for answers. “What do you mean she’s not coming?”

He couldn’t look at her right now, or take pleasure in her touch - it was all too much.

“I’m saying…” he shrugged her arm away, “nothing’s changed. Octavia’s made her choice.”

“ _Now_ you’re going to accept that?” Clarke cried, incredulous. “After all the effort you spent trying to convince her otherwise?”

She huffed in horror at his indifferent expression.

“ _Bellamy_! You _know_ this isn’t right. If she stays outside, her _and_ her baby will die.”

He closed his eyes, unable to bear her questioning stare.

“ _Maybe_ … but I don’t get to decide.”

He’d tried, but he’d finally lost the will to fight Octavia on this. For months she’d brushed him off and he’d backed away, hoping for the day he’d wear her down.

When she told him that she was pregnant, he thought maybe she’d change her mind.

He was wrong.

 “I can still get you a place inside the dome,” he mentioned in the tent, trying to stay level-headed. “But you have to come back with us now.”

“Are you even listening to me?” Octavia whined.

He knew she was afraid of being locked in again, restrained in the limited space of the arch, but she had to push past that demon.

“It’s not just about you anymore, O. It’s about the life you’re carrying.” He didn’t want to say the words, he’d known how heavy they felt since he was seven years old, but she had a responsibility beyond herself now.

“Even if I do go to the dome, there’s no guarantee that _any_ of us will survive,” she’d sniped.

“You’re right.” He swallowed, licking his lips. “But I have to believe in something better. Like Mum did. She had to make the _same_ choice, O, knowing either way, that her and her baby might not make it. She risked _everything_ for hope - for _you_.”

“I don’t _want_ to make that choice.” Octavia glared at him. “I’m _not_ my _mother_.”

“I _know_ , O… I know.” He scrubbed a hand over his forehead, frustrated that he wasn’t getting through to her. “But if you stay outside, you _will_ die!” He leant his hands on the bed, hunched over close to her and softly said, “You think Lincoln would want that for his child?”

In hindsight he should have expected her reaction, but the slap still stung the thin skin of his cheek and his heart contorted every time she resorted to force to get her feelings across.

Was it him that had taught her that?

He’d wanted so much more for her.

And now, look where they were.

Like a twist of fate in one of the tragic tales their mother used to read to them, he felt as though all of the pain of life on the Ark, and the grimness of what they’d done on the ground, had been for nothing.

They were back where they started – facing the same foe and suffering through the same struggles as their predecessors.

It seemed that he and his sister were also stuck in some sick cycle.

“I wish you’d never taken me to that dance,” Octavia’s eyes filled with tears as she hissed her words at him. “We would have died on the Ark like _everybody_ else and I would _never_ have met Lincoln.”

“Stop it, Octavia!” He was tired - tired of trying to live her life as well as his, tired of fighting her all the time. “You don’t mean that.”

“I would never have lost him,” she sobbed.

“He’s not _lost_ , O.” Bellamy struggled to find a way to say the words that would help her see. “Don’t you get it? Your baby… your baby is Lincoln’s legacy.”

She’d screamed at him then and he’d left.

He’d left because he was a mess, and he couldn’t take any more hurt from her.

Not now.

Not with such little time remaining.

If something as beautiful and pure as the promise of new life couldn’t break the barriers between them - stop the vicious circle that kept spiralling out of control, then there was no way he could.

He had to let Octavia go.

There was a dome to be completed and people who needed him.

His heart and his hope may have been beaten, but at least his brain and body could be useful.

 

*

                                                                                                                                       

Back at Arkadia, Clarke accosted him once Abby had excused herself and headed to the clinic.

He had been expecting her to attack him on the walk back, but instead she bit her lip and barged through the bush, her bewildered expression gradually morphing into intense contemplation as they continued their journey home.

She’d probably spent the entire trip trying to think of a plan, or something.

“Bellamy,” she cornered him near the entrance to The Ark, stepping up into his space and pressing a finger to his chest.

Just like the “good” old dropship days.

“You can’t just give up on Octavia like that! I know you, and that’s… not possible.”

Her eyes were earnest now, yearning for him to tell her what she needed to hear.

But he had no answers.

“What do you want me to do Clarke?”

“You could _make_ her join us,” she said without hesitation.

Bellamy sighed and looked up to the sky. He didn’t realise how strongly Clarke felt about Octavia and her baby until then.

“Like you tried to make Luna take the chip?” He called her on it, gently, because that’s what they did for each other. If the tables were turned he’d want to be reminded of his mistakes, before he made them again.

But Clarke’s mouth dropped and she furrowed her brow - she hadn’t anticipated his actions.

Perhaps because they were still tentatively rebuilding what they had lost, after she’d left. He cursed himself for forgetting that things were different between them now.

His held his breath as Clarke closed her lids briefly before looking back up at him, her eyes awash with regretful agreement.

“You’re right,” she said quietly and Bellamy breathed - relieved. “I was wrong to try and take away Luna’s freedom of choice. We can’t force Octavia to do anything against her will. I just… I don’t _understand_. It seems simple to me. Stay and die, or go and live a life with her and Lincoln’s child. A life she may never have even had the opportunity to live on The Ark, a life that so many others would _kill_ for.”

Bellamy felt the same; he did; only Clarke was forgetting one vital part.

“She thinks being restricted to the dome is the same as cursing her kid to the upbringing she had,” he said.

“Was it really so bad?” Clarke asked.

“Come on, Clarke,” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsettled recalling that small but seminal part of his story. “You know the answer to that.”

“It’s just…” Clarke’s eyes softened, “she had you.”

Bellamy tucked his arms across his chest, and looked to the side, trying to hide his watering eyes.

“I guess that wasn’t _enough_ ,” he sniffed.

“No… Bellamy, don’t say that,” Clarke stepped in close and smoothed her palm up his arm, taking it away again when he glanced sideways at her.

“It’s true,” he said taking a deep breath and lifting his head. He needed her to understand why he’d let Octavia go. “I was a fool to think I could ever convince her. She’s had so little control over her life and the way things went, it just made sense to let her own this - even though it hurts like hell.”

Clarke sighed, resigned. Her shoulders dropped and her face looked exactly as his felt.

“It just doesn’t feel right,” she admitted.

Bellamy nodded.

“I was determined that Octavia’s baby would provide a second chance for you and her - f _or Lincoln - for all of us_. I never expected to see the start of a new generation,” she said sorrowfully. “Hopefully, they don’t _stuff up_ the same as we did.”

He snorted.

“You can’t protect everyone from everything Clarke,” he placed his hands on his hips. “But you can teach them to be strong, resilient. Teach them that no matter what they face, as long as they face it together, they _will_ overcome it.”

For a second she stood stunned, blankly staring at him like she was somewhere else. Then her eyes lit up like he hadn’t seen in a long time.

A soft smile curved up the corner of her lips and she tilted her head and narrowed her eyes good-naturedly.

“What happened to - whatever the hell we want?” She teased.

He shrugged and smirked. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who remembered stuff they said and did way back when. “I guess a learnt a thing or two.”

They locked eyes then, looking at each other like they were reflecting on old photographs that represented their short but extraordinary shared history.

After a minute, Bellamy broke out of the gaze awkwardly and they both turned in sync toward the Ark. Their shoulders and arms brushed lightly against each other as they entered.

“You did well with Octavia,” Clarke added as an afterthought, as they walked.

“Yeah,” he griped “and look at what I got for it.”

Before he knew what was happening, Clarke came to an abrupt stop, quickly slipped her fingers into his palm, tugged down on his hand so that he halted beside her, and stretched on her tiptoes to press her lips into the soft spot of his cheek.

Perhaps his heart was _not_ so beaten.

It certainly picked up the pace when she drew away from him and they stood only gasps apart, studying each other’s expressions with a new found fervour.

“What was that for?” he asked unassumingly, trying not to think of the last time she’d kissed his cheek.

“You did well Bellamy,” Clarke said with certainty.

His muscles seemed to remember how to smile then, and he ducked his head. His lowered eyes found their fingers still entwined. Impulsively, as if it were the most natural thing he knew, he circled her knuckles with his thumb.

“Maybe we _should_ keep Octavia a spot… just in case,” he murmured meekly, taking the time to cherish the sensation of her skin.  

“ _Two_ spots,” she corrected him with a grin, slowly stepping away from him, her arm stretched outlandishly so as to delay the separation of their fingers for as _long_ as possible.

“ _Two_ spots,” he chuckled, and the sound was so foreign to them both, that they raised their eyebrows at each other in awe, before chuckling a little more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to continue this. I had a few more scenes drafted and had to sequence it all into something that flowed. I'm not 100% happy with it, but I gotta put it out there.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.
> 
> Includes an adapted version of my drabble "A Toast" that was the winning entry on Bellarke Fanfiction's October Flash Fic competition.

As it was they didn’t have to wait two days to see Octavia again.

Indra and Nyko hurried her through the gates of Arkadia before dawn the next morning, her body pale and emaciated - hanging limp in Nyko’s arms.

Bellamy was on hunting and gathering detail and Clarke was asleep, leaving Abby and Jackson on call for the clinic.

“What’s changed?” Abby asked matter-of-factly, tugging up her sleep tousled hair as she filed into the infirmary behind Jackson, heading straight for Octavia. “I wasn’t expecting to see you ‘till tomorrow or the next day.”

“After you left yesterday she continued to vomit,” Indra reported. “She hasn’t kept anything down for two days now and on our way here she lost consciousness three times.”

“Two times,” Octavia rasped. “The other time I was just napping.”

Abby raised her eyebrows in disapproval and began to check Octavia’s vitals, briefing Jackson on the situation as she worked.

“She refused to come to camp,” Indra added sternly. “I was forced to recruit Nyko to escort her here.”

“And you were right to do so,” Abby confirmed, nodding at Indra as she took a vial of blood from her patient’s arm. “Octavia, you’re dehydrated. You need fluids. Jackson’s going to attach an IV and I’m assigning you to bedrest until further notice. Once I get the results from these blood tests we’ll start you on some vitamin supplements,”

“Bedrest!” Octavia protested, struggling to rise up on her elbows in order to assert her disapproval. “I can’t do bedrest.”

“You need to recover.” Abby said gently, motioning to Indra for one of the extra blankets on the shelf beside her. “And you need to stay away from stressors, like any situation or person who might make you angry or upset.”

“You mean my brother,” Octavia sighed.

“I mean anything or anyone that could disturb your emotional state,” Abby clarified as her and Indra stretched the blanket across Octavia’s legs.

“So I can’t do anything?”

“Right now you need to focus on restoring your body in order to support the life growing inside you. If you continue to spiral downwards things are going to get seriously complicated for you _and_ your baby.” Abby tapped a few notes onto her tablet and turned back to Octavia. “I’ll send someone over soon with a warm meal and be back in an hour to check up on you, until then Jackson will be here if you need anything. And Octavia…”

“Yeah?”

“Try and get some sleep.”

 

*

 

Word travelled quickly in the camp and by the time Clarke had risen, showered and entered the mess for breakfast, she’d heard about Octavia’s grand entrance from six different people. None of them knew of the nature of Octavia’s illness, of course, and all of them were curious. Clarke liked to think that their concern was for the wellbeing of their friend, truth was, most of them were probably making the same assumptions her and Bellamy had, before finding out about the baby.

Pregnancies were rare in camp, and having children was the last thing on peoples’ minds right now. Maybe that would shift, Clarke thought, once they had constructed their new safe haven and settled in to life under the arch.

She hoped so.

In the mess, she found her mother easily, sitting with Kane as they shared their meal.

“How’s Octavia?” she asked, pulling up a chair without hesitation.

Nothing much had changed for Clarke after Abby opened up about her feelings for Marcus. It seemed so natural, so right, and according to Bellamy “ _so damn obvious_.” Clarke had never been good at picking up on those things, and besides, it appeared a lot of those feelings had developed while she was absent.

 “I’ve diagnosed her with Hyperemesis Gravidarum,” Abby answered, making sure to keep her voice low. “She should stabilise in a few days but there’s no telling how long her symptoms will continue.”

“Can I see her?”

“She needs peace and quiet, Clarke.”

“Of course,” Clarke exhaled, looking down at her hands in her lap. “Is Bellamy back yet?”

Marcus shook his head. “They’ll be another hour or so.”

“Clarke,” Abby stretched her hand across the table, reaching towards her daughter. “When Bellamy returns, you need to help him see that he can’t be in there with her.”

“Yeah,” Clarke agreed softly. “He’ll be okay. He just wants what’s best for his sister.”

“We all do,” Marcus smiled. “Bellamy will understand.”

 

 *

 

After eating, Clarke managed to swap assignments with Bryan at short notice, which positioned her on the side of the dome structure closest to the gate. From there she would be able to observe Bellamy’s detail arrive home and approach him before anyone else got a chance to let the cat out of the bag about Octavia.

It was mid-morning when they came in loaded with two large carcasses, plenty of fare from the traps and baskets full of root vegetables, berries, herbs and other edible greens.

“Looks like you had a productive morning,” Clarke greeted him, trying to keep her tone light.

“We got lucky with the game,” he shrugged, stopping to direct the rest of the detail to the smoke house and preserving tent with their provisions.

“Thought you were working on the south side this morning,” he said, squinting through the low-rising sun to see her face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, a little delayed – simultaneously struck by the sun illuminating his freckled face _and_ the realisation that he knew exactly where and when she was on shift. “Octavia arrived a little earlier than anticipated, but she’s alright,” she added.

“Okay,” he drawled. “Why is she early? Is something wrong?”

“She’s dehydrated due to the morning sickness and can’t keep anything down. Mum’s put her on an IV and restricted her to bedrest. She thinks… she thinks it’s stress related.”

“So… your Mum doesn’t want me to see her?”

“She needs space Bellamy, and time to recover,” Clarke reached out a hand to comfort him, looking up with trust and understanding.

For a moment, Bellamy concentrated solely on Clarke’s hand – calm and reassuring on his arm. Something about her touch seemed to ground him when he found himself about to fret. It harnessed his wild heart rate, fooled his fight-or-flight response and dispelled the negative self-talk in his head. In fact, simply having her beside him had a similar effect, but he welcomed the ever increasing, if fleeting, moments of physical contact between them.

“How long?” he asked, finally allowing himself to return to their conversation.

It was such a demanding task, she knew, asking him to stay away from his sister.

“That’s up to Octavia, I guess.” Clarke smiled. “But I think she’ll be on her feet in no time.”

“You think?” Bellamy cocked his eyebrow as he reached down for the sack of tubers beside him, flinging it over his shoulder before looking back at her.

“Well, let’s just say I can’t imagine her taking the news about being restricted to bedrest _lying down,_ ” she emphasised, nudging his shoulder with hers.

Bellamy shook his head at the absurdity of her words.

“Ha ha, funny,” he deadpanned with a quirk of a smile, nudging her back.

 

*

 

Octavia slept for almost twenty-four hours straight. Aside from Indra and Nyko, nobody was permitted to see the patient, but once she was able to keep down all three of her daily meals, Abby allowed her some guests.

Bellamy was not one of them, nor was Clarke.

It made sense, he supposed, that the first people to visit his sister in the med tent were her friends from the dropship.

She’d barely seen them since they took down the City of Light, given that Octavia had almost immediately begun working on secret missions for the coalition and was often elsewhere.

Now that she was detained at Arkadia – Harper, Monty and Jasper were keen to catch up with Octavia, despite having their own “end of the world” duties that occupied most of their time.

Bellamy was grateful for Octavia’s friends, and he knew it was the best thing for his sister, but it didn’t make the space between them any smaller.

Keeping an eye on things from his work position on the last section of the Arkadian dome wall, he sighed and nodded his head at Harper when she exited the hospital tent.

Being restricted from going _inside_ the clinic didn’t stop Bellamy from working as close as he possibly could, watching and waiting for the moment Abby would say it was okay and he would drop everything and waltz in there.

On the fourth day after Octavia’s arrival, the Arkadian dome wall was completed.

That night the community celebrated by the fire with a humble feast, dancing and speeches.

Octavia remained in her tent.

Bellamy sat beside Clarke and Raven as they tirelessly talked shop, nutting out a glitch in the dome’s magnetic armour. He didn’t even feign interest, for his attention was captivated by a different conversation on the other side of the fire.

Diagonally across from them, Harper and Monty were curled into each other, sipping from their moonshine while Jasper mused about Octavia and her impending motherhood.

Bellamy, along with the rest of his work detail, discovered that Octavia had shared her news with her friends when Jasper unintentionally referred to him as “Uncle Blake” in the briefing that morning.

A lifetime ago he might have responded to Jasper’s mishap in a less than favourable manner. That morning he simply breezed past the incident - maybe because he’d changed, or maybe because Octavia and her baby’s fate were still uncertain. Regardless, the others didn’t need to know about her decision, unless she wanted them to.

It seemed they were all assuming she would stay. At least that’s what they were talking about – what life in the dome would be like for Octavia with a baby at her side.

Between the crackling of the fire and the sounds of festivity, Bellamy only caught bits of their discussion, but it was enough to make him melancholic.

Octavia was within reach, yet so far away, and he missed her now more than he ever had, even during her time in the Skybox.

“ _Seriously_ ,” Raven snapped, suddenly intolerant of Bellamy’s mood and Clarke’s lack of concentration _because_ of Bellamy’s mood. “Just go see her already. I, for one, am sick of seeing your sorry arse slumping around camp like it’s the end of the world or something.”

Bellamy shot Clarke a searching look.

“Doctor’s orders,” he muttered, staring into the searing flames.

Raven rolled her eyes.

“Abby’s otherwise occupied, and Octavia’s probably sleeping anyway. It’s not like you can induce any stress when she’s not even conscious.” She stood up. “Please, just do us all a favour, Bellamy, because your sad, pathetic face is not a good look, _and_ it’s distracting your team members,” she glared at Clarke before stomping off.

“Ignore her;” Clarke said quickly, “she’s pissed that I asked her to re-run the diagnostics on the shield.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, a little thrown by Raven’s outburst.

“Yeah. A few of the cells are malfunctioning. It’s nothing Raven and Monty can’t sort out.”

Bellamy followed her line of sight across the fire where Monty was kissing Harper goodbye while Raven waited on the sidelines, arms folded and face frustrated.

Once the two techies’ silhouettes faded into the shadows, Jasper and Harper continued their prior conversation, which had somehow digressed to a debate on what was worse – poo or spew? A small part of Bellamy was pleased it wasn’t Jasper who was facing the prospect of parenthood. He chuckled to himself at the thought of it.

“What are you laughing about?” Clarke had ducked off to get them both another drink. When she sat down this time, she sat closer than before and Bellamy drew in a breath as the side of her thigh pressed against his.

“I was just imagining Jasper Junior, you know, goggles and all.”

She giggled and he thought he might fall off his seat.

Some of the others turned at the sound but on seeing the two of them smiling stupidly at each other, they glanced away and started whispering amongst themselves.

Clarke looked down at her cup.

They sat without saying a word for a while, wrapped in the warmth of the fire and the fuel in their cups.

“Do you ever think about your future?” Clarke soon asked, breaking the silence between them.

“No,” Bellamy replied, he loved that she was never afraid to delve straight into the deep stuff.

“ _Never_?”

“I’ve been living day by day since Octavia was born,” he shrugged. “I haven’t had the luxury of wondering what kind of life I’d have.”

“And now?”

He looked up from his cup at the edge in her voice and noticed an intensity in her eyes usually reserved for more urgent moments.

“Now’s no different,” he said truthfully.

“But you have hope, right?” Clarke continued, unperturbed.

“Hope that we’ll survive this?”

“Hope that one day we’ll be free to do _more_ than just survive.”

Bellamy sighed and leant his head back, looking up at the stars.

“We may never be rid of the things we’ve done, Clarke.”

“Maybe...” she paused, sliding a hand onto the top of his leg, her fingertips lightly grazing the inside of his thigh. “But we have each other, and our children will be free.”

“Our _children_?” Bellamy swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked at her sideways as a blush crept up Clarke’s cheeks.

“I-I meant…” she stuttered, removing her hand to steady the shaking cup in her other, “our _people’s_ children - like Octavia and Lincoln’s baby, and… Jasper Junior.”

“Of course,” Bellamy smiled slyly and raised his cup. “I’ll drink to that.”

“To our future generations,” Clarke tapped her drink against his, “may they be free from Freudian slips of the tongue.”

Bellamy coughed, choking on the small amount of liquid he was allowed.

“Freudian slip,” Clarke clarified, “it’s an unintentional…”

“I _know_ what a Freudian slip is.” Bellamy recovered.

They fell back into an easy silence, staring at the night sky above them, but all Bellamy could think about was - had Clarke just admitted to “unconsciously” considering the idea of having his babies?

 

*

 

It was three more days before Octavia asked Abby for permission to see her brother.

Her symptoms had stabilised and she was allowed to move out of the clinic into her own quarters.  At first she spent some down time around the domes with Harper and the boys, doing non-work related things like swimming in the lake and admiring the mini eco-systems, however, it didn’t take her long to request being assigned to simple tasks, like sewing and weaving.

Which Abby obliged.

After the celebrations, Bellamy had thought hard about Raven’s comments and realised she was right. Now that the wall construction was complete, Octavia was recovering well and had been re-housed, he had no need to be hanging around. He volunteered to run extra hunting and gathering details in order to ramp up their stocks and signed on to help with the labour on the airlocks between the individual arcs. Putting his brain and his body to use felt right, and being so busy kept him from over-analysing the situation with Octavia.

He heard during his cherished daily trysts with Clarke that his sister had been getting out and about, but he managed to stay away from her, which wasn’t too hard considering his workload.  

Sometimes he’d lie awake at night wondering whether she’d completely cut ties with him and he’d never see her again.

It was after one of those evenings that he solemnly strode off at his morning break, keen to see Clarke, for her presence alone helped lift the darkness from his shoulders.

As he rounded the hill, however, he was surprised to find Octavia waiting for him under the old oak tree where he and Clarke usually met.

“I hope you don’t mind, Clarke mentioned you’d be here,” Octavia said almost meekly, standing up and dusting her hands against her pants.

He tried not to stare at her mid-section, but it was obvious Octavia had popped. He’d seen her from a distance the last few days since she’d been freed from the clinic, but this was the first time they’d been in close proximity since the day he found out she was pregnant.

“Kinda makes it more real, right?” she read his thoughts, palming a hand over her perfectly bulging bump.

In that moment Bellamy wanted nothing but to embrace his little sister, to hold her close and keep her safe, just like he used to do when she was younger, but he knew those days were over, so he stayed with his feet planted, unable to speak, unsure of what to say.

This was new ground for them.

They continued on with awkward small talk for a short time, until the gap between them became less and less significant.

“Harper showed me around the lakeside dome.” Octavia mentioned once they were both sitting down, sharing some of the fruit Bellamy had brought for his break. “It’s… not what I expected.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy was happy to simply hear his sister’s voice, so he let her do most of the talking. It was promising to hear that she had been exploring the domes though.

“So… her and Monty huh?” Octavia continued.

“Yeah…” He had forgotten that she had hardly been around since the City of Light. A lot had happened since then.

“They’re good for each other, right?”

“They’re helping each other heal.” He smiled when he said it, because it was true, and he couldn’t help but feel content every time he thought about those two.

“How ‘bout you?” Octavia peered at him as she picked at a piece of citrus fruit.

“I’m fine O,” he replied confidently. He didn’t want her worrying about him.

“I meant – who’s helping you heal?”

He stared at her for a second as he tried to figure out where she was going with the conversation, then he shook his head, changed tack and brought up the topic they had both been skirting around.

“All that matters to me right now is that _you_ heal.” He placed a hand on hers.

“Ugh,” Octavia groaned but she didn’t shy away from his touch. “You sound like Indra. She’s gone all nurturing on me. It’s a little hard to take.”

“She cares about you, O. We all care about you. Is it so bad that we want to help?”

It took Octavia a moment to respond and when she did Bellamy felt the air had altered.

“What if you can’t help?” She said sadly.

“I can try. But you have to trust me.” He squeezed her hand. “You do still trust me don’t you?”

“I don’t know.” Octavia shrugged. “I don’t even know if I trust myself anymore.”

“What do you mean?” He had never seen her so indecisive before.

“I mean… lying in the clinic doing nothing kinda reminded me of being under the floor in the Ark.”

“O…” He squeezed her hand tighter and looked at her with growing concern. He knew it hurt to talk about that part of her life.

“I’m okay. It’s just… I’ve had a lot of time to think about things. Things that I didn’t want to think about before.”

“And?” Bellamy raised his eyebrows.

“And… I’m _sorry_ Bellamy. I shouldn’t have hurt you. I should have listened,” she started to cry. “We could have saved Lincoln,” she whimpered through her tears.

“Maybe,” Bellamy pulled her closer, smoothing his hand over her head and down her hair. It destroyed him, seeing her like this, but he was slowly learning that he couldn’t protect her from everything. “I never wanted any of this for you, O. I never wanted you to make the same mistakes as me.”

“Well… you shouldn’t have been so good at making them,” she sniffled. “Then I wouldn’t have tried to copy.”

Bellamy huffed and hugged her to his side with a smirk, while she wiped her eyes.

“I know I can’t make you stay, O. But I want you to know… Lincoln was right. He told me a long time ago that _he_ didn’t make you strong, that was _you,_ all along. I thought I was doing the right thing, trying to keep you safe, but I was wrong. I was scared to let you go, because without you I’d be nothing. I wouldn’t know who I was. Being your brother was all I knew. I was wrong to hold on to you. You don’t need _me_ O. You don’t need Lincoln either. You don’t need _anybody_. But this baby needs _you_. This baby needs _you to live_.”

“But… what if I can’t do it Bell?” she whispered. “What if I can’t be what this baby needs me to be. I’ve _killed_ people. I killed _Pike_. I’m a _murderer_ …”

“You’re lots of things Octavia. You’re the girl who grew up under the floor and the first sky person on the ground. You’re one of the hundred. You’re Skaikru _and_ Trikru. A warrior and a Blake. You’re my sister, O, and you’re a _survivor_. Becoming a mother doesn’t nullify any of that, it just adds another layer to your story.”

“My story?” she quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, you know, like the myths Mum used to read us. It’ll be… the story of Octavia Blake, the girl who never gave up.”

“And what will they say about her brother?” She teased, resting her head on his shoulder as they both leant back against the tree.

Bellamy shrugged.

“That he was a good brother,” he winked at her, “but an even better Uncle!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you for reading, commenting, kudos etc.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you liked/didn't like about the story or the style or whatever!
> 
> It's possible I'll continue this as I have more scenes in my head. I'd like to explore the Bellarke angle deeper and come to a better conclusion.
> 
> Where do you see it going?
> 
> I'm on tumblr, sometimes...  
> https://sarmaarmour.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a long time coming and as usual I feel like I rushed it a little. I don't get a lot of time to write, so when I get on a roll I go with it. 
> 
> Some of these images and scenes have been in my head since the first Chapter. 
> 
> Non beta'd as per normal.

It felt like a small victory, having Octavia back, but like all good things on Earth, it didn’t last long.

She’d been spending her spare time in the butterfly garden, sometimes alone but often with Harper or one of the hundred.

Bellamy saw her at the evening meals and most mornings before the business of his day began, finalising the finishing touches on the dome – their future home.

It was almost two days before dome day (D-day) when Harper came looking for him in the council chambers mid-morning. He and Clarke were bent over Raven’s weather chart, trying to figure out how to re-route the last refugee group that was due to arrive before the rain clouds that had begun moving steadily towards them opened up.

Harper stood in the doorway with resolve, her eyes persistently searching until she saw Bellamy’s broad back and Clarke leaning in close as they studied the sheet side by side.

“Bellamy,” Kane alerted his attention to Harper’s frantic form standing behind them patiently. “You have a visitor.”

The three of them stepped out into the hall, Clarke’s face stern as she asked, “What is it?” even though they both knew it had to be about Octavia.

“Something’s not right,” Harper said with certainty, eyes on Bellamy.

He looked at her under arched eyebrows, urging her to continue.

“Yesterday Octavia and I were in one of the hot houses and we came across some white flowers.”

Clarke scrunched her forehead impatiently and crossed her arms in front of her. “Go on.”

“She started crying,” Harper added and Bellamy begun to shift on his feet. “She was really upset. I tried to help but she just kept repeating something about how she wanted to be with Lincoln. I should have told you,” Harper looked down to the ground. “I’m sorry.”

“Harper,” Bellamy touched the top of her arm gently but with enough pressure to encourage her to look up at him and re-engage. “It’s okay,” he said but Harper shook her head.

 “No, it’s not,” she muttered hurriedly. “Because now, I-I can’t find her anywhere.”

Bellamy froze and Clarke unfolded her arms in slow motion.

“I went to her room two hours ago to see if she wanted to get some breakfast and she wasn’t there.”

Clarke and Bellamy exchanged worried glances.

“What about the butterfly garden?” Clarke questioned coolly.

Harper shook her head. “I’ve looked everywhere,” she said, and then in a quiet voice. “I think she’s gone.”

Bellamy cursed and ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground like he wanted to kick something.

“You two check her room again,” Clarke directed decisively. “I’ll talk to the others and the guard detail; see if they’ve noticed any unusual activity. Meet me at the mess in fifteen.”

Harper turned immediately to her task and Bellamy was about to do the same when Clarke reached out, gently placing her palm at the base of his neck, sliding it down over his collarbone to squeeze his shoulder, staring at him with stone-cold confidence.

“We _will_ find her,” she said.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Clarke made it to the mess hall it was meal time and the large open area was filling quickly with the usual mix of Grounder and Skaikru personnel.

Raven, Monty and Jasper were already there, having been alerted by Clarke asking around.

They were cautious not to garner the attention of the guards, or the council, who had been on edge for the last few days. As the rain approached and D-day loomed, people were beginning to go a little stir crazy. There had been a spate of thefts and some defectors from camp who had decided their chances were better on the outside. Since then the council had placed a ban on anyone, except official outfits, leaving the arch.

So, in order to appear as though they were meeting for something as ordinary as lunch, Clarke and the others pretended to eat while they waited for Bellamy and Harper to appear.

They were not very convincing.

Once Bellamy entered – Harper, Miller and Bryan ambling anxiously in front of him, the jig was up anyway.

His face was a dark mask of fury and something else, determination maybe?

Clarke didn’t want to ask.

“Anything?” Raven said instead, trying to fill the stony silence as they all half sat, half stood around the table, too deeply invested now to care about how things might have looked.

Harper shook her head. “She’s taken supplies from her room,” she confirmed.

“But where would she go?” Jasper asked, his eyes wide with concern. “There’s nowhere safer than here, right?”

“We have to _do_ something,” Monty insisted, looking straight at Clarke.

“No,” Bellamy’s voice was cold and firm, sending a chill through the rest of them. “We are not doing anything. There’s less than 40hrs till the dome is closed, and one group of refugees still unaccounted for – _that’s_ what we need to concentrate on.”

“ _Bellamy_ -” shocked, Clarke stepped towards him but he put up his hand, as if to say ‘stop’.

“You all heard the council the other day; we can’t sacrifice any more supplies, or risk trying to rescue people who don’t _want_ to be rescued.”

The others looked around at each other with eyebrows lowered in confusion and anger, trying to fathom who this imposter was, standing before them talking like his sister meant nothing to him.

“She’s one of us,” Monty said gently. “We can’t just-“

“Yes, we _can.”_ Bellamy was resolute.

At that moment, Abby approached the table.

“What’s going on?” she asked with quiet command, fully aware of the tension in the air but conscious of creating a scene.

“Nothing,” Clarke said a little too sharply. “We were just discussing the last refugee party.”

As she spoke Bellamy spun on his heels and marched off, the rest of the group, including Abby, watching him with puzzlement.

“Raven!” Clarke’s harsh authority drew them back. “Anything new on the radio?” she asked with a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Nothing yet,” Raven said slowly, unable to read the  real reason for her friend’s redirection. “I think the building storm is causing the interference.”

“Keep trying,” Clarke continued talking, even as her eyes followed Bellamy’s back as he exited the mess. “If needs be, we can direct them to one of our hidden emergency stores until the first round of rain recedes, then they can enter later through the decontamination chamber.”

“Maybe…” Raven started but Clarke was already making her way after Bellamy. “But we haven’t perfected the…” Raven shouted but Clarke was too far away to hear. “Damnitt!” the mechanic muttered.

“Will somebody please tell me what the _hell_ is going on?” Abby asked again.

Nobody said anything.

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy didn’t go to his quarters, nor did he go anywhere near the council chambers. Instead Clarke followed him to a supply section where he met one of the guards. They talked tersely until the other man finally agreed with whatever Bellamy had asked, and they parted.

Clarke stepped in front of Bellamy as he stepped out of the store room, gasping as she realised he was now dressed entirely in a hazmat and was stuffing a spare mask into his already over-stuffed satchel.

She should have known he’d try to throw them off the scent and sacrifice himself to find his sister.

“I’m coming with you,” she said quickly, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin as if to challenge him.

Bellamy tore off the hazmat headpiece, shook the hair from his eyes and grabbed her arm with urgent sincerity.

“No. Clarke _please._ She’s my responsibility.”

Clarke pursed her lips. “She may need medical attention.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head, exasperated.

 “You’re needed here,” Bellamy said. “We might not be back in time, Clarke. I don’t even know where she is.”

“She can’t have gotten far in her condition,” Clarke decided before heading into the supply room for another suit.

 “I won’t let you risk your life for her.”

“Well I’m not letting you do this alone…”Clarke crossed her arms.

Bellamy clenched his jaw and ducked his head, resigned.

“Alright,” he sighed reluctantly. “Let’s get going before your mother figures us out and puts an end to it.”

 

* * *

 

 

After exiting the dome under the guise of a routine radiation check, thanks to the guard Bellamy had met, they headed straight for the forest.

Once they were no longer visible and under the protection of the trees, Bellamy removed his mask and gloves, and scouted around the forest floor for tracks. Clarke followed his lead and they spent a few minutes searching silently.

“Anything?” he asked bleakly.

“Nothing,” Clarke replied, equally dismal.

Bellamy grit his teeth and blinked the sweat from his eyes, turning and storming off into the trees.

Clarke blew the hair from her face and chased after him.

“Wait,” she cried, and he slowed a little, till she was matching his step.

She knew it was fruitless, walking through the forest in no particular direction trying to find someone who didn’t want to be found. But she said nothing and they continued on like that for hours without saying a word.

It wasn’t until they were almost upon the dropship that they realised where their instincts had taken them.

They stood, side by side, between the remains of the burnt gate, looking in at the remnants of their past life, the place where it all began – their baptism of fire.

It was the first time they’d been back at the dropship together since Finn had turned himself in.

“She won’t be here,” Bellamy stated flatly.

“I know,” Clarke replied. “But maybe we should rest a while. Reconfigure.”

Night had fallen and they were running out of time, fast. The dome was due to be fully activated and enclosed in approximately 36 hours, unless of course the rain came early, then they had an even smaller chance to make it back to camp.

“Where do you think she might have gone?” Clarke asked, as they sat at the entrance to the dropship, knees bent and legs spread, drinking from their canteens.

Bellamy tore the corner off a ration pack and looked out around him, thinking.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I thought… these past few days, that she was okay with the way things were going, that she’d decided to stay.”

“Me too,” Clarke smiled weakly, leaning into him softly until their shoulders were pressed against one another and her head almost rested in the nook of his neck. She wanted him to know he wasn’t the only one who’d hoped.

“It was stupid.” Bellamy said suddenly and she felt his body stiffen. “I should have known something would set her off.”

“You couldn’t predict this Bellamy. It’s not your fault.”

“I got complacent. Dropped my guard. Just like on the Ark when I let her get arrested.”

“Bellamy _stop!”_ Clarke rolled her legs over so she was sitting on her side, shuffled even closer into him and wrapped her arms around his arm. “We’re going to find her.” They gazed intently at each other, their faces so close Bellamy could feel Clarke’s breath tickle his skin as she spoke. “And we’re going to bring her back.”

This time it was Bellamy’s turn to smile weakly as he slowly placed his hand on top of hers, lacing her thin fingers in his as he watched her, carefully gauging her reaction.

Clarke relished in the reciprocated touch.

“Octavia hated it here,” Bellamy said after a beat or two of silence.

Clarke snorted.

“I _remember_ ,” she said exaggerated. “She was always sneaking out…”

Their eyes snap locked with each other then and Bellamy squeezed her hand tight.

 “To see Lincoln,” he added, reluctantly letting her fingers loose and untangling their arms as he stood up in a rush.

“Harper said she kept repeating… that she wanted to be with him,” Clarke continued, already missing the comfort of Bellamy’s caress.

“She’s at the cave. His cave,” Bellamy finished.

They were both on their feet now, hitching up their packs and grabbing the rest of their hazmat gear.

“Lead the way,” Clarke gestured and they headed off, putting the darkness and dust that was the dropship camp behind them, the warmth of their embrace giving them new life and energy to go on.

 

* * *

 

 

Octavia was on the brink of reality by the time they made it to the cave. As they crept around the corner into the main chamber, they heard her cry out.

“Lincoln!” she called feverishly. “Lincoln? Is that you?”

She was curled on the floor on some furs, sweat sheen shining off her skin in the soft candle light.

Clarke tried to hide her concern, but there was no fooling Bellamy.

He ran to his sister’s side and scooped her into his arms.

“She’s burning up,” he grunted.

“Bellamy?” Octavia blubbered slumping against him. “What are you wearing?” she giggled, and then gasped when he lifted her into his arms. “Put me down!” she yelled. “I don’t want to go under the floor, please Bellamy, _please_ \- I wish I’d never been born!”

“Don’t say that Octavia,” he shushed her, as Clarke checked her vitals, gave him a quick nod and gathered Octavia’s few belongings. “We have to go now,” he said quietly to his sister. “We’re taking you home.”

“My home is in here,” Octavia mumbled feebly, holding her fist to her heart before giving in to her exhaustion and falling asleep.

“She’s delirious,” Clarke explained as they exited the cave. “Probably hasn’t slept since the incident in the hot house and the journey here wouldn’t have helped. She needs fluids.”

“I know,” Bellamy breathed.

“How far is it back to the arch?” Clarke asked, staring up at the sky.

Around them the soft glow of dawn was beginning to filter through the trees.

“Hard to say,” Bellamy muttered. “Six - maybe eight hours.”

He felt Clarke grasp his upper arm.

“We may not have that much time,” she murmured, nodding to where a set of dark storm clouds hovered ahead.

“There’s still 24hrs till they shut the dome,” Bellamy stopped, dropping Octavia’s legs and letting her lean unconscious against him, so that he could rest. “We’ll make it.”

“Not if the rain comes early.”

“Clarke, it’s been looming like this for the last three weeks.”

“Not like this.” She lifted her hands, palms open. “This is different. Can’t you feel it? Smell it?”

Bellamy could. The air was like electricity.

“Let’s keep moving,” his voice was deep and gruff, punctuated by grunts as he resumed his hold on Octavia.

“If we make it to one of the emergency supply hideouts, we might be able to wait out the first rain,” Clarke reasoned.

They both knew it was a long shot. There was no guarantee any of the outposts they had chosen would withstand whatever was coming, nor was there confirmation that Raven’s decontamination chamber would be effective.

“We have the hazmats,” Bellamy bargained. “I think we should aim for the dome.”

Clarke thought for a moment and then nodded. “Okay,” she said. She believed in him. If Bellamy thought they could do it, then they would.

 

* * *

 

 

They made good time, despite having to stop frequently to alleviate the weight from Bellamy’s back. Octavia slipped in and out of consciousness and was capable of carrying herself some of the way, despite putting up a fight at one stage when she realised she was no longer in the sanctuary of Lincoln’s cave.

About two hours out from the camp, she insisted on walking despite her unsteady stumbling slowing them down. Clarke, no longer having to concentrate hard on putting one foot in front of the other in their reckless pace, found herself looking up at the sky every other second.

It had remained grey the entire day, the only evidence of the sun a dull glow emanating from behind the clouds from time to time.

When they reached a grove of trees that Clarke recognised, a flash of light to their north caught her eye. She looked up just in time to see lightning on the horizon, and immediately in front of her a large bulb of water fell onto a pile of pine. She averted her eyes to the sound of rain hitting plastic and held out her arm. A large, voluptuous drop of water ran off her hazmat suit.

“Bellamy!” she screamed and spun around. “It’s started!”

Behind her, Bellamy and Octavia stopped still, then, seeing the rain falling randomly around them, whipped into action.

Bellamy hoisted his sister into his arms and ran for the cover of a dense thicket.

“Put this on,” he commanded, wrenching the spare helmet from his satchel. It was all he had.

Clarke fitted her own headpiece. She produced a wrap cloak from Octavia’s things and draped it over the girl’s shoulders, covering her bare arms. Finally, she slipped her gloves onto Octavia’s hands.

“We’re close,” she said. “And the rain’s not thick; we could make a dash for it.”

“I agree,” Bellamy nodded. “Octavia, climb on my back, there’s no time for you to walk.”

“Will they wait for us?” Octavia asked weakly as Bellamy hiked her up, her swollen belly making the manoeuvre awkward.

“I hope so,” Clarke replied, stepping out of their temporary cover into the slow falling rain.

Together they stormed on through the trees, their hearts, minds and bodies focused wholly on one thing and one thing alone – surviving.

It wasn’t long before Clarke felt a drop burn into the soft skin of her unprotected hand; she hissed but said nothing, the pain sensation driving her forward.

Over the past twelve months their bodies had become accustomed to the constant pressure of their daily lives, but Clarke knew the events of the last 16 hours would take quite a toll.

What kept her going was the image of her people safe inside the dome and the thought that she would have all the time in the world to recover, preferably with Bellamy somewhere close by.

She mulled on that thought for quite a while, conjuring a picture in her mind of what down time with Bellamy might look like.

As the forest began to thin out, they were stopped in their tracks by a loud clap of thunder and then the sound of voices - lots of them.

“Over there,” Octavia pointed from her vantage on Bellamy’s back.

Clambering through the trees with a crash of noise and frightened expressions on their faces came the last group of refugees.

Men, women, the elderly and children - even some domestic animals, emerged sporadically. Some were in small groups, others walked alone. All of them stared with enlarged eyes at the trio before them.

“Skaikru!” somebody cried, gesturing excitedly.

“We’re saved,” said another.

Bellamy and Clarke exchanged looks and rushed over to the troupe.

“Who has the radio?” Clarke called, weaving through the frantic crowd until she found the person responsible for communication. She grabbed the device from them. “This way,” she yelled, leading the group towards the camp as she tried desperately to contact the dome.

There was nothing but static.

Around her, the refugees had covered themselves as best they could, but the rain was pervasive.

Children cried relentlessly and others cradled their blistered arms and hands in agony.

The rain had slowed momentarily but the electrical storm was approaching faster. The gap between thunder clap and lightning strike was decreasing.

“Try Morse code,” Bellamy yelled at Clarke as he and Octavia caught up.

Clarke tapped her message through as she continued to guide the civilians to safety.

There were at least 40 of them, all in various states of health.

When she stepped out of the tree line into the open and saw the shimmering shield of the main dome as it rose over the original Ark, Clarke almost cried. It reminded her of the first time she’d seen Camp Jaha that night with Anya, after they’d escaped Mt Weather.

She never thought she’d be happier than then to see home.

Two things happened at that exact moment.

They received a clear call from Raven, followed by an ear-splitting crack of thunder that opened up the sky and sent forth a much heavier, faster shower of rain, right behind them.

“Open the dome!” Clarke cried into the radio, amidst a frenzy of screams and the bustle of bodies streaming towards the structure, trying to avoid the approaching wet.

An elderly man tripped and fell, his sight compromised by large blisters forming over his forehead and cheekbones. Clarke helped him to his feet and led him towards the gate, where, with relief, she spied her mother, Kane, Miller and Harper among others assisting the refugees as they entered in a panic.

In the chaos, Clarke had lost track of Bellamy and Octavia. She rushed back out through the crowd until she found them, bringing up the rear.

Octavia was striding on with Bellamy’s support, whilst he carried a small child of three or four.

Just as Clarke reached them a woman screamed from inside the dome, and tried to push past the guards.

“My boy!” the woman wailed. “My boy is still out there!”

“He was sleeping on their cart,” a man in front of them said. “He may have fallen out in the rush of the first rain.”

Clarke gasped. How could they leave a small boy behind?

Without hesitation Bellamy thrust the toddler he’d been carrying into Clarke’s arms.

“Take her,” he urged. “And Octavia too.”

“No,” Clarke was shaking her head even as the little girl wrapped her arms around her neck.

Behind Bellamy she could see the heavy, grey cloud travelling towards them.

“C’mon Clarke,” Octavia rasped, leaning into her for support.

“No,” Clarke repeated. “No, Bellamy, _please._ No.”

But Bellamy had already turned his back and was marching away from her, towards the thick curtain of rain and the dark empty treeline. “Keep them safe,” he said over his shoulder and she felt a cold shadow creep over her spine.

“No,no,no,no.” Clarke cried again and again, until she felt Miller’s strong hands dragging her into the dome and her mother removing the child from her embrace.

She ripped off her hazmat helmet and went immediately to the cell wall, pressing her hands and face against the translucent material, trying to get a glimpse of him.

She didn’t care that her exposed skin was covered in festering sores or that everyone in the direct vicinity could see how crazy she was behaving.

He had to survive.

Just as the first sheet of rain reached the gate, and the last of the refugees rushed in, Kane gave the order to activate and enclose the dome.

They couldn’t wait. It was too risky.

A thousand eyes looked up to the ceiling anxiously as the heavens finally hit them and they waited with bated breath to discover if Raven and Monty’s design would hold.

It did, for now, and the crowd erupted in cheers, hugging and high fiving each other, even with their horrific injuries.

One pair of eyes, however, remained fixated on the edge of the trees, their vision blurred by the rivulets of rain on the cells outside and the welling of tears that she refused to wipe away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in Australia and have no access and no idea HOW to access Season 4. It's killing me. I can't visit all my fave people on tumblr cause of the spoilers and I'm dying knowing that you guys get Episode 4 tonight! Arrrgggh! 
> 
> So please comment, but I'd appreciate if you avoided mentioning Season 4 content.
> 
> Thanks for reading, sorry about the ending, but it's not the end. I've got more in mind.
> 
> Enjoy tonight's episode :D :(


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time coming I know, and I feel it's barely up to scratch, so I just want to say thank you all so much for your patience and for your acceptance of a rather rushed chapter.
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> Non beta'd as per usual. All mistakes are mine!

Clarke stood with her face inches from the dome wall, the rawness of emotions she had felt seconds ago, slowly giving way to the fierce fighting instinct she so strongly relied on in this life.

“I have to go back out there,” she said to Abby as her mother attempted to cleanse the raw boils on her hands.

“Bellamy has his suit, Clarke, and he’s smart. He’ll find the boy and together they’ll find shelter.”

Clarke wrenched her hand away and returned it to the cell wall, the whole time her eyes fixated on the blurry edge of the forest outside the dome.

The thick, heavily falling rain obstructed her view, but she peered on anyway.

She didn’t want to think about the death wave still headed their way.

Black rain was one thing… but she wasn’t certain that any sort of shelter, even the dome, would be successful in saving them from the electrical tempest that hurled towards them.

Behind her, people rushed around frantically – assisting the refugees to remove their rain soaked outer clothing and head to the showers and medical bay.

“Raven!” Clarke snapped into the radio. “Why isn’t the de-contamination chamber prepped and ready at the gate? Bellamy could be back any minute. As soon as he appears, and is safe inside the dome, you must be a go with the EMP. If that storm front hits us, we need to use everything in our power to protect this place.”

She waited, but the radio remained silent.

“Clarke…” her mother sighed beside her, trying to take her hands in hers once more. “Listen to me.” But Clarke refused to take her eyes off the horizon. So, Abby just blurted it out anyway. “There is no de-contamination chamber.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke finally jerked to attention.

Rather than engaging with Abby, however, her eyes diverted to a figure beyond her mother, limping furiously towards them, ponytail swinging.

“Damnit Clarke I tried to tell you before you and Bellamy left,” Raven barked before she’d even reached the two of them.

Crestfallen, Clarke looked at her in shock. “But I saw the schematics. You showed them to me.”

  “Yeah, I had a plan. But we used all the materials we had to seal and ventilate the decontamination chamber for construction of the airlocks between the domes. We had to scramble as it was for those, and I’m still not convinced they’re 100%.”

“There _has_ to be something you can use. I want you to put everything you have into this; don’t rest until you come up with a solution.”

“What do you think we’ve been doing the entire time you and Bellamy were off rescuing Octavia?” Raven said, resigned. “We’ve tried everything Clarke. There’s no way anyone caught outside the shelter can re-enter without the risk of the entire structure becoming contaminated.”

She knew Raven was right.

But Clarke was beyond reason.

“Don’t tell me there’s no way,” she threw up her arms. “If that were you out there and Bellamy in here – he’d find a way.”

Then noting her friend’s hopeless expression, Clarke switched tack.

Stepping forward she placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder and summoned up all the confidence and trust she could.

“You can do this Raven.”

But Raven shrugged her hand away and looked down to the ground.

“I’m sorry Clarke. I can’t,” she said flatly. “Not this time.”

Before Clarke could respond, there were cries all around them and people flocked to the dome wall, pointing and gasping and shaking their heads in dismay.

The two women shared a brief exchange before turning to look through the cells to the spectacle beyond.

***

Bellamy found the boy, Rigo, further from the dome than he had expected. He tracked a trail of abandoned carts, goods and frantically trampled foliage from the point where he, Clarke and Octavia had come across the group of refugees. As he hurried along, he searched and called out, all the while trying to keep an eye on the sky.

Eventually the boy called back and Bellamy followed the sound to a small cave where Rigo and two goats were sheltered from the rain.

“Don’t be afraid”, he told the 5yr old who gawked at Bellamy with wide, alarmed eyes, as he entered the cave in his suit.

Once out of the weather, he removed the helmet and shook the sweat form his hair, crouching in front of the grounder child.

“We’re going to go someplace safe, okay?”

“The Skakiru dome?” Rigo asked in English, no doubt thinking of his mother.

Bellamy sighed and stood up again, looking out through the mouth of the cave, cursing the depth of the forest for obscuring his view of the approaching death wave.

It didn’t matter.

The dome was out of the question.

Even in the chaos and commotion of his earlier arrival there, Bellamy had noted almost immediately the very obvious lack of a decontamination chamber at the gate.

Something must have happened to prevent them completing it.

He knew his friends. If Raven could do a thing - she would do it.

He also knew, that by now, the powers that be would have ordered the gate shut for the safety and preservation of all inside.

He knew this because if he had been in the same position, he would have made the same decision.

As the death wave encroached, the radioactive air preceded it, and there was too greater risk to wait for one or two outsiders.

They would have to try for the bunker.

It was their only hope.

At best they could ride out the destructive storm front, use the radio in the bunker to contact the dome and survive off the rations distributed there until Raven and Monty had completed the decontamination chamber.

At worst… well, Bellamy didn’t want to think about that right now.

“Put this on,” he calmly directed Rigo, kneeling before the boy to help him with the helmet. “We don’t have time to wait for a gap in the rain,” he explained just as calmly, showing him how to cover any exposed skin by tucking his hands into his sleeves and his pants into his boots.

“What about you?” the boy asked, looking pointedly at Bellamy’s unprotected head.

“I’ll be fine. You ready?” Rigo nodded. “Good,” Bellamy smiled. “Let’s go.”

It was impossible to tell how far away the death wave was, given the dense forest, but Bellamy knew they were at just as much risk of dying from over exposure to the rain and radioactive air before they even made it to the safety of the bunker.

He was in the midst of thanking Monty over and over again in his head for the idea of supplying the bunkers in case of an emergency, when they ran into a panic stricken party of deserters racing back towards the dome they had left some days ago.

“Wait!” Bellamy bellowed at them, but most did not stop, crashing their way through the forest in single-minded survival mode. “What are you doing?” he cried, grabbing onto the arm of a woman dashing past him.

“The storm comes,” she panted, wriggling from his grasp and continuing on her way. “We’re going back to the ark.”

“Stop!” Bellamy called out to her desperately and some of the others slowed. “You can’t go back,” he said to those now paying attention. “It’s not safe for them to let you in,” Bellamy added, rushing towards them.

One man and his wife and child stopped still, looking from Bellamy to the boy and back again.

“When they see how many we are, they will allow us entry,” someone said and some others agreed.

“Please,” Bellamy looked directly into the eyes of the grounder man before him. “If you want to live – you should come with us.”

“There’s no time for this,” a woman in Ice Nation dress proclaimed and the rest of them charged onwards.

“You can save us?” the grounder man asked.

“We have to hurry,” Bellamy barked and they barged through the bush in the direction of the bunker.

***

Scrambling across the field between the dome and the forest came a number of frantic figures, some faster than others, some tripping and falling,  all of them peering behind them at random intervals – their faces filled with dread.

One woman, dressed in Azgeda gear, raced up to the cell wall and repeatedly slammed her fist on the outer shell, the whole time screaming for the insiders to “open the gate!”

The sound of her voice failed to penetrate the dome walls, but the words she spoke in terror were clear to everyone close by.  

Soon, others joined her, until a whole section of the dome was covered by outsiders, begging in fear, to be allowed entry.

“That’s Olker,” Clarke overheard one woman say beside her. “She left a few weeks ago, before they placed the ban.”

“Let them in,” somebody else cried, and there was a scuffle at the gate.

Raven stood immobilised beside Clarke, eyes wide open as she took in all the faces of the people before her.

“I can’t save them,” she uttered in total despair.

Suddenly, the Ice Nation woman outside the dome turned to look over her shoulder and when she turned back again, she abruptly stopped banging. Something about her appearance was altered, Clarke noted. But before she could conclude what it was, the woman drew her dagger and drove it into her own heart, without any hint of hesitation.

Mouth agape, Clarke expelled a strangled cry as the woman’s body slumped to the ground, leaving a clear view of the scene that had provoked her so.

“Raven,” Clarke roared, her pragmatism kicking in. Gently shaking the shoulders of her petrified friend, she pointed to the tsunami like wave of electrical cloud rolling across the field towards them, the forest but a charred skeleton in its wake.

Spurred into action, Raven snatched the radio from Clarke’s hands.

“Monty, do you read?” she snapped urgently.

“I hear you Raven,” came the reply.

“Charge the EMP!”

“Already done,” Monty sent back.

The rest of the outsiders had by now, also realised their fate. Some of them dropped to their knees in resignation, others scrambled off, skirting the edge of the dome as if out running the tempest was an option. Others still continued to rage in vain at the cell wall.

A single tear escaped Raven’s eye as she slowly depressed the mic button on the radio and instructed Monty to pull the EMP lever on her command.

“In five, four…”

Outside the dome a shimmering blaze of radioactive heat, hurled towards the walls, searing everything in its path. Right in front of their eyes, the people outside began to burn and blister, their skin boiling and bursting open in seconds.

“Raven?” Clarke shouted in apprehension.

Inside the dome, people cried and held each other. One woman shielded her child’s eyes from the atrocity. Some turned away, unable to bear the brutality.

But as horrible as the scene before them was, Raven knew she couldn’t take her eyes off the tempest. They had to be extremely precise with the firing of the EMP. The cells were designed to protect them from the radiation, but the magnetic pulse was to repel the immense destruction of the death wave. If they released it too early, the storm front would simply ride over it, like a surfer paddling over a swell.

“Three, two…,”

They were surrounded now by an impenetrable darkness illuminated by fits of white and yellow lightning strikes that seemed to spark out in all directions. The front rolled closer and closer, rising above them like the mouth of a monster about to consume them.

“One! Now Monty!” Raven shouted into the radio.

And then she shut her eyes.

***

It wasn’t until the five of them were safe in the bunker and he had instructed the others to remove their contaminated clothes and bathe in the shower, that Bellamy was able to take stock of his own injuries.

Somehow, he had managed to avoid getting too wet and most of his wounds were superficial, bar some nasty ones on his scalp and a large cluster of blisters across one side of his face, probably caused by the water dripping from his hair.

Still, there was no time to wallow in the pain.

They had to treat themselves immediately.

Rigo and the others were largely unharmed, due to covering themselves with all manner of materials from their clothing, and scraps found along the way. Asha, the small grounder child, had been asleep the entire time and woke only when her mother, Katya, unwrapped her to wash. Her parents had cocooned Asha in some kind of industrial plastic that they had probably scrounged from an abandoned camp. Bellamy had to marvel at their resourcefulness. Yet, why leave the ark at all when they had been safe there? Especially with such a young child.

It was a question for another time.

“The air in here is not poisoned?” Val asked, peering around at the walls and the hatch as he spoke.

“We will know soon enough,” Bellamy answered grimly, searching through a cabinet for the radiation pills stocked there.

When eventually he found them, the box slipped from his hands in his haste and the packets of pills spilled out onto the floor.

Placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder to compose him, Val knelt down and with the help of Rigo, calmly and quietly collected the packets.

“You are sorely infected,” Val stated. His cool, gentle nature reminded Bellamy of Lincoln’s friend Nyko, and he wondered fleetingly if the two were related. “You should cleanse yourself too,” he gestured towards the shower.

Humbled, Bellamy nodded. “You and Katya take one each of the tablets,” he directed. “And half each for the children. There should be salve in there too,” he added, stepping out of his suit as carefully as he could. “Rub it lightly over any blisters.”

As he rinsed briefly, Bellamy tried to order his thoughts.

They would have to assess their supplies first and then use the radio provided to get in touch with the dome to let them know they were alive and how long they could survive in the bunker. 

But rations were only one part of the problem.

There was no way to tell if and when the death wave had passed, or whether the air outside, and even inside for that matter, was contaminated.

When the time came for them to leave the bunker for lack of supplies, how would he know if it was safe to do so?

Too early and they and the bunker would be irradiated. Too late and they might starve or die of thirst.

Bellamy dressed in fresh clothes from the supplies, suddenly invigorated when he remembered that he did, in fact, have instruments to measure the radiation levels. When he and Clarke had left the dome looking for Octavia, they had acted on a ruse that they were running a routine radiation check. He had carried a hand held device as part of the ploy and slipped it into his suit pocket once they were out of range of the gate guards.

Excited, he rummaged through the suit, grinning stupidly when his hands made contact with the meter.

Bellamy switched it on and while the others observed silently, he slowly drew the telescopic wand around the room, watching carefully as the readings lit up on the screen.

Content, he switched it off again to reserve battery power, and smiled at the four faces waiting in anticipation.

“The air is safe,” he answered as cheerfully as he could muster.

For now, he thought to himself.

After sharing the sketchy plan he had concocted in the shower, the others agreed it was a reasonable course of action. They all wanted to help, so as Bellamy set to work on the radio, the rest assisted by calculating their rations and supplies.

The radio was an older box style, one that had been spared for the bunker. Not that it made any difference to Bellamy. He knew how to use the machine, but if it came to repairing it, well, he was no Raven or Monty.

Sighing at the thought of his friends, Bellamy switched the device on and attempted to tune into something other than static.

In only a few seconds, garbled voices blared through the white noise and although he couldn’t pinpoint what they were saying Bellamy recognised Harper and Monty’s voices in the mix. Fiddling with the dial he tried to hone in on their conversation but there was too much chatter on the line.

“Monty,” came Harper’s strained voice. “…seeing this?” she asked.

“Yes,” he heard Monty reply. Then after a pause – “I love…but…important… everybody…have to… line clear… Raven.”

Thinking back, Bellamy remembered that Harper had been posted in the guard tower when he and Clarke had arrived at the dome with Octavia and the refugees. She must have been trying to communicate with Monty who would be in the command centre.

Suddenly Raven’s voice came through loud and clear.

“Monty do you read?”

And all other chatter ceased.

Thinking this was his best opportunity to try and reach the dome, Bellamy depressed the mic button and tried to make contact.

There was no response.

He tried again. Nothing.

Then Raven was talking once more, this time directing Monty to prepare the EMP. Before Bellamy could make another attempt, Raven proceeded to count down the seconds.

“The death wave must be right on them,” Bellamy muttered.

Katya, Val and the children stopped what they were doing and listened with intent.

“Will the cell wall hold?” Val asked, with the same collected tone he had used earlier.

“It has to,” Bellamy replied matter-of-factly.

He had complete faith in his friends, but the radioactive tempest was like nothing they had faced before.

Well, kinda.

As he listened carefully to Raven’s countdown, Bellamy conjured an image of Clarke in his mind, trying to remember what she looked like the very last moment he had laid eyes on her. She stood tall looking out over her people with her head high and her hair blowing in the breeze. Only, he slowly realised, it wasn’t the dome gate that she stood in front of in his vision, but the dropship door. And it wasn’t her people she was looking at, but him.

Bellamy gasped and tried to press the mic button one last time, only to hear Raven roar into the radio.

“Now Monty!”

There was a deafening crackle and right before the signal dropped into a sea of silence, Bellamy swore he heard Clarke recite a sombre “may we meet again,” in the background.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to hear what you thought. It's been a long, hard slog to get this chapter done for you all. 
> 
> I enjoyed working on it, but I'm a little anxious about putting such a rough piece of work out there. I only edited once or twice as opposed to my usual 50 billion times! :P
> 
> Once again, here in Australia we are a bit behind. Have only just seen Episode 5 of Season 5. So please, no spoilers in your comments! :D
> 
> Thanks for reading, and for your feedback.


End file.
